I'll Be Home For Christmas
by pumpkin-patch
Summary: The team all have holiday plans, but what happens when a Petty Officer is murdered two days before Christmas? Team-fic with a case in the background. Slight McAbby and Tiva. Rated T for language and references. Oneshot.


_**A/N: I decided I'd go ahead and take a break from my 13-page history paper (oh the joys of being a history major) to post this. I'm posting it a bit earlier than originally planned, but due to finals, and then a busy winter break, I decided to go ahead and put it up.**_

_**I wrote this about a year ago, so it's set in Season 6, before "Silent Night" aired. Slight Tiva and McAbby, with mentions to "Cloak." The title was taken from Michael Buble's version of the song of the same name, "I'll Be Home For Christmas." Once again, please understand that I am not Jewish, therefore any prayers or customs mentioned in here are from online research. If I get something wrong, please feel free to message me so I can correct it. Lastly, reviews make a starving and stressed college student happy, so please leave them! I love to know where my strong points are, and where I can use some work. :)**_

_**Thanks so much for reading!**_

**Disclaimer:I do not own NCIS (though I have asked for Season 3 on DVD for Christmas), nor do I own the song from which this title's chapter comes from. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**It was a gray-skied day in Washington DC, with weather forecasters constantly warning the citizens of the impending chance of a snow storm. Timothy McGee was busily typing away on his computer, seeming perfectly at ease. On the contrary, Ziva David was on the phone, angrily arguing with someone in Hebrew. As Tony DiNozzo walked into the bullpen, she slammed her phone down.

"Easy, Ziva," he started. "No need to harm the phone for something it didn't do."

"That might be easy for you to say, DiNozzo," she snapped. "You did not have your flight canceled because of this weather!"

Tony cocked an eyebrow and grinned as he settled into his chair behind his desk, propping his feet up on the desk.

"Plans, Ziva? Going home to see someone special?"

"It is an important tradition in America for you to spend the holidays with your family, no?" she inquired.

"That's generally what we do," McGee replied, finally looking up from his computer.

"She wasn't asking you, McEavesdropper," Tony shot.

"Today is the first day of Hanukkah," Ziva continued, ignoring the argument between the two male agents. "I was planning on going home to Israel to celebrate with my father."

"No one's going anywhere until we find out who killed a sailor," Gibbs started, walking to the bullpen. "Gear up!"

* * *

Tony grimaced as he looked at the dead man in the alley behind a small convenience store. He snapped a photo of the man and shook his head slightly.

"Someone obviously wasn't happy with him," he commented.

"Tis such a shame that someone would be killed this close to the holidays," a posh British voice came. Gibbs walked up to the aging coroner.

"What took you so long, Ducky?"

"Mr. Palmer got us lost." Mr. Jimmy Palmer came rushing up, carrying all the bags.

"I gave you the map, Dr. Mallard," he argued.

"That was your first mistake," Ducky noted. He bent down and looked at the corpse. "Well, you met an unsightly end, my dear fellow."

"Can you tell me what happened, Ducky?" Gibbs asked.

"Blunt force trauma to the head," Ducky replied, inserting a probe thermometer into the corpse. "I would estimate time of death to be about 8 to 12 hours ago." Gibbs nodded and turned to the rest of the team.

"Status!"

"Witnesses around the area report seeing nothing, Boss," McGee started, walking over to the older man. "The convenience store owner said they came around back to take the trash out and found him here this morning."

"Ziva!"

"I have almost finished collecting all the evidence," she replied, bending over into a dumpster to quickly search for anything. She pulled out a bat with blood stains on it. "I have not found any ID. I have, however, found our murder weapon, I believe."

"Tony!" he barked. There was no answer. "DiNozzo!"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Quit taking pictures of Ziva's ass and get back to work!"

"On it, Boss!"

There was a pause, and then Gibbs gave a sharp whistle, motioning for Tony to come over.

"Yeah Boss?"

Gibbs reached up and slapped DiNozzo on the back of the head.

"The camera is for evidence and evidence only. Am I understood?"

Tony rubbed the back of his head.

"Yeah, Boss."

* * *

Gibbs walked into the morgue as Ducky removed some organ from the corpse.

"Ahh, Jethro," the coroner began, turning around to face his longtime friend. "I was beginning to wonder when you were going to show up." He turned to his assistant. "Would you mind finishing up the autopsy, Mr. Palmer?"

"No problem, Doctor."

Gibbs walked over to the desk with Ducky, who removed his latex gloves and placed them in the biohazard disposal unit.

"What do you have for me, Ducky?"

"Our sailor was killed by blunt force trauma to the head," Ducky answered, picking up his clipboard and making a few notes on it. "I've found several fragments of wood in his head and sent them up to Abby for analysis."

"ID?"

"I was able to match his dental records to those of a Petty Officer Jeremy Daniel Jefferson." Gibbs nodded, turning to the door.

"Thanks, Ducky."

"Ah… Jethro!" Ducky called. Gibbs paused in the doorway and looked over his shoulder.

"Yeah, Duck?"

"Are you going to push this case into the holidays?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"How fast my team can bring in this killer."

* * *

"You don't really think Gibbs is going to make us work into Christmas, do you?" McGee wondered aloud, turning to the other two agents in the bullpen.

"That depends, McGee," Gibbs began, walking into the bullpen. "What do you got?"

"Petty Officer Jefferson was last seen in the restaurant across the street last night," Ziva began. "He was reported as having dinner with a blonde haired lady. I am currently trying to find this woman."

"McGee!"

"I've got Petty Officer Jefferson's bank and cell phone records. Bank records indicate no significant changes over the past few months. However, he frequently received phone calls from a Janice Davidson of Georgetown."

"Anyone of you trying to find her?"

"Already on it, Boss," McGee responded, typing away on his computer.

"DiNozzo!"

"Friends and family say Jefferson had just returned from an eighteen-month-long deployment in the Mediterranean on the USS Sacramento. He had spent maybe two weeks home and was scheduled for another deployment within the year."

"Find Janice Davidson and the blonde and bring them in here!"

"Uhh… Boss?"

"What, McGee?"

"They're the same person. And she's right behind you."

* * *

Gibbs looked at the woman sitting on the opposite side of the table and frowned some. Certainly a potential suspect wouldn't turn themselves in, would they?

"You mind telling me what you and Petty Officer Jefferson were doing last night?"

"We went out to dinner," she started, setting her shaking hands on the top of the table. "You see, we were dating… we started dating before he was deployed. And this dinner was to celebrate his homecoming." She shook her head and let out a sniff. "I just… I can't believe he's dead."

"When did you last see him, Ms. Davidson?"

"When we left the restaurant," she answered. "He wanted me to come back to his apartment for a while, but I told him I couldn't. I had work the next morning."

"Any enemies that you know of?"

"No… well… I can only think of one." Gibbs, instantly interested, sat down and pulled out a pad of paper.

"Who?"

"There was this man he mentioned in one of his emails when he was overseas… a Petty Officer Stephen Keller. Apparently Jeremy caught him and another female officer having sex in one of the barracks. Both were dishonorably discharged." Gibbs nodded and stood up.

"Thank you for your help."

* * *

"Gibbs!" Abby squealed as he walked into the lab. Gibbs smiled slightly.

"What do you got for me, Abby?"

"I managed to ID those wood fragments Ducky gave me," she answered walking over to her computer and pulling the image up on the plasma. "They're from your standard ash baseball bat."

"Anything else?"

"I managed to pull a couple prints from the bat you gave me as well. They're partials, and I'm currently running them through AFIS. No hits yet." Gibbs planted a kiss on her head and handed her a CAF-POW! before walking out the lab.

"Gibbs, wait!" Abby called, running after him. "Aren't you going to ask me what I'm doing for Christmas?"

"Abby, what are you doing for Christmas?" he asked, chuckling slightly.

"I'm going back home to Louisiana to celebrate with my family," she replied, smiling widely. "And you?"

"I'm solving a murder, Abby."

* * *

"I hope we hurry and solve this case," Tony grumbled the next day as the team drove to Stephen Keller's house to bring him into custody. "I have plans."

Ziva couldn't help but to snort as she laughed.

"You have plans?" she asked incredulously. "Certainly they don't include visiting family and enjoying the holiday ghost."

"Spirit, Ziva," Tony corrected. "It's the holiday spirit."

"I was going to see my family, but they weren't able to get any flights here, and I wasn't able to get a flight home," McGee commented. As soon as the words escaped his mouth, Gibbs slammed on the breaks, causing McGee and Tony's faces to go slamming into the seat in front of them.

"A little warning next time, Boss," Tony groaned, rubbing his now tender nose. First the door to Abby's lab, and now this. If this kept up, he was sure he'd end up with a permanently broken nose.

They got out of the vehicle as snow started to fall and began to surround the building. Tony went with Ziva around back while Gibbs and McGee took the front.

"Boss, I see movement in the house," McGee warned, peering cautiously through a window. "Looks like he's going around back!"

"Ziva! DiNozzo! He's headed your way!"

"NCIS! Freeze!"

The man froze in his tracks for a moment before pulling a gun out and pointing it at the two NCIS agents.

"Look out!"

"Oof!"

Ziva let out a grunt as something solid slammed into her, taking her to the ground as gunshots rang out. Pushing Tony off of her, Ziva jumped up and ran after the suspect, only to find him caught by Gibbs. He wrestled him to the ground and slapped a pair of handcuffs on him, growling under his breath.

"Never shoot at my agents."

* * *

Ziva paced around the interrogation room, wondering how to begin. Should she threaten him? Or simply present the facts they had so far?

"We know you knew Petty Officer Jefferson," she began, settling into the vacant chair across from Keller. "And we also know that you have a reason to dislike him."

"Why am I here?" Keller asked. Ziva chucked.

"First- because you are connected in an ongoing murder case. Second- because you shot at federal agents. Need I say more?"

Keller sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Look, I did know Jefferson. We served together on the USS Sacramento." Ziva folded her hands and looked at Keller over her fingers.

"What happened between you two?"

"I-… he caught me and another sailor having sex in the barracks," he answered, turning slightly red. "I was dishonorably discharged, as was Petty Officer Reed." He paused, looking up at Ziva. "I didn't do it; I swear."

"Then why did you shoot at us?" Ziva demanded, standing up and slamming a fist down on the table.

"I-… I don't know," Keller answered. "I saw you guys and… and I got scared." Ziva shook her head and stood up, walking out of the room.

"I do not believe him," she told Gibbs once in the observation room. "He seems very… moving."

"You mean shifty," Tony corrected.

"We've got jurisdiction to keep him for attempted murder of a federal agent," Gibbs told them. "He'll crack in time. In the meantime, find Petty Officer Reed."

* * *

Ziva slammed her fist into the vending machine as it rejected her dollar for the fifth time. All she wanted as a drink, and she couldn't even get that.

"Looking for these, Zee-vah?" a voice began. Ziva turned around and saw Tony walking in. He held out his hand, showing four quarters.

"You are late," Ziva noted. She set the dollar bill in his hand and picked up the quarters.

"Ducky went off on one of his 'this reminds me of a case back in' stories while I was in autopsy. I couldn't get away." Ziva chuckled as she made her selection in the drink machine.

"You seem to have the best timing sometimes," she commented. "Or would it be the worst?"

Tony gave her a grin and shrugged.

"That all depends on your perspective." Walking over to the table, she sat down and looked over at Tony. Ziva tapped her fingers against her bottle some, seeming slightly impatient or confused. Finally, she looked back up at Tony.

"What exactly happened at the arrest earlier today, Tony?" she asked, opening her drink. "I would have been fine. He was not aiming at me."

Tony hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden question. Had Ziva really asked what he thought she asked?

Ziva looked at him, studying his face. What was going on behind that calm façade of his? Had she surprised him? Why wasn't he answering?

A few awkward moments later, Tony realized that his hand was still frozen in the air from where he'd fed the dollar into the snack machine and he hadn't answered Ziva's question. For a moment, he didn't say anything. Then, head lowered some, he made his selection. Tony picked it up and started walking out of the break room, leaving Ziva with four words she'd said to him no more than a month ago.

"It was a reflex."

* * *

"As far as we know, Reed's dropped off the map, Boss," McGee started as Gibbs walked into the bullpen. "No cell… no bank activity. Last known address was a PO Box in Fredericksburg, Virginia. Post office says she hasn't checked her mail in over a week."

"Any house? A roommate? Something?"

"Keller's cell phone received a lot of calls from a number in that area. They suddenly stopped about a week ago."

"Got an address?"

"Address is right here, Boss." McGee handed Gibbs a sticky note.

"Tony, Ziva, you're with me. McGee, go check on Abby." He looked at all of them. "What are you waiting for? Move!"

"Uhh… Boss?" Tony started, hanging up his phone. "Police report just came in. Reed's body was found in the house at the address you've got. It says probable cause of death is blunt force trauma." Gibbs sighed.

"Go get Ducky."

* * *

"She died the exactly as our other Petty Officer," Ducky began as Gibbs walked into the morgue. "Blunt force trauma to the head. And just like before, I removed fragments of wood from her skull. It seems our murderer has a particular taste for baseball bats."

"Anything else, Ducky?"

"Yes. This woman was four months pregnant." He paused. "I sent DNA samples up to Abby for analysis. She should get back to you soon." A smile came across his face. "This reminds me of a case back in…"

A cell phone began to ring. Gibbs fished his out of his pocket and flipped it open.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

"Gibbs, you're not going to believe this!" Abby started exuberantly over the phone.

"Lay it on me, Abby."

"Petty Officer Reed was four months pregnant!"

"I know that Abbs."

"No, Gibbs, that's not all. Not only was she four months pregnant, but she was four months pregnant with Keller's child."

"Good work Abby."

"No, Gibbs, wait! There's more! The pieces of wood that were found in Petty Officer Reed's head are from the same bat that was used to murder Petty Officer Jefferson! Their blood is on it! And Petty Officer Keller's fingerprints were on it!"

"That son of a bitch…"

* * *

Gibbs slammed his fist down on the table in front of Keller.

"We have your fingerprints on the murder weapon. We've got blood on the murder weapon linking you to it. Now answer me- why did you kill them?" Gibbs demanded. Keller remained silent. "Answer me!"

"She was going to tell," Keller started. "She was going to demand child support. I'm a dishonorably discharged sailor; I don't have any money. And I sure as hell can't get a job anywhere... at least, not in this mess of an economy."

Gibbs turned his ice-blue eyes on the subject from where he'd been watching the camera in the corner.

"So you kill her?"

"I-… we got into an argument. I didn't mean to kill her. I didn't even mean to hit her. But I got so angry and… and I hit her. I grabbed the bat and hit her. Petty Officer Jefferson called and said he saw me murder her. He said he was going to report me to the police. He tried to blackmail me. When I saw him at the convenience store, I just snapped." Gibbs sneered at the man and shook his head in disgust. Standing up, he walked to the door and motioned for the security officers.

"Arrest him. He's our murderer."

* * *

McGee sat in front of his typewriter later that night, trying to write a little more of his next book before he went to bed, only to wake up to a lonely Christmas day. Since his family's plane had been canceled, he'd resigned himself to spending Christmas alone. Perhaps it was for the better, though. Knowing his luck, there would be a murder tomorrow, and he'd get called into work.

A sigh escaped McGee as he looked over at the clock at watched as it turned to 12:00 AM.

"Merry Christmas, everyone," he muttered. All of a sudden, there was a knock at his door. Confused, he got up and walked over to it, opening it slowly.

"McGee?" Abby's voice came.

"Abby?" he asked, confused. Abby let out a small sniff.

"They delayed my flight back home," she started, brushing now melting snowflakes off her black jacket. "Then they canceled it all together. It's late and there's traffic and I can't get a cab…"

She trailed off, dropping her head some. McGee put a hand on her arm, causing her to look up. He gave her a warm smile.

"Abby… c'mon in. You can spend Christmas here." Abby looked up at him, uncertain.

"Are you sure, Tim?"

He nodded, leading her into the apartment.

"You've always got a home here, Abby."

* * *

Tony cursed under his breath as he walked through the snow through the grocery store. Of course, he would forget to go grocery shopping and have to do it in the middle of last minute holiday madness. He managed to survive, though, getting out of their without being killed by some crazy lady.

"Tony? What are you doing out this late?" a familiar voice asked. Tony looked up and saw Ziva walking behind him.

"Grocery shopping," He answered. "You?"

"Candles." He cocked an eyebrow.

"Your power go out?"

"No. For my menorah. I was so busy with the case that I did not notice that they were too small to burn." There was an awkward moment, and Ziva remembered their last conversation alone. It had ended with Tony acting strangely and telling her the same cryptic line she'd told him. After an uncomfortable pause, the two NCIS agents both made attempts to leave.

"Well, I've got dinner to cook," DiNozzo started. Ziva nodded, starting to turn away.

"Yes… yes. I will see you on the 26th?"

"Yeah… the 26th."

They turned to walk away. Ziva, however, stopped and turned around.

"Tony!" she called. He stopped… turned around. "Would you like company for dinner? I have no plans, as do you…"

Tony hesitated for a moment, and then walked in her direction.

"Sure." Ziva led Tony back to her apartment, where she set her purse, keys, badge and sidearm on the counter. Tony set his groceries on the table and watched as Ziva put three candles in the menorah. She lit the center one, and then proceeded to pray in Hebrew.

_"Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha-olam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav vetzivanu l'hadlik ner shel hanuka."_

"Amen," Tony uttered, blessing himself. Ziva looked at him as he unpacked the groceries.

"Do you do anything special for Christmas? Aside from the lighting of the Christmas bush."

"Tree, Ziva. Christmas tree. And, no, I don't. I used to go to midnight mass as a child, but since then, I've stopped."

"No exchange of gifts?" Ziva inquired, confused.

"We give each other gifts. Usually we'll open them on Christmas morning, first thing when we wake up. And you?"

"Typically we will give members of our family one gift every night of Hanukkah. They will start off small, and then work their way up in size." She walked into her living room, picked something up from her coffee table and returned to the kitchen, handing Tony a box. "Since I am unable to share these with my family, I feel I should share them with my friends."

Tony slowly opened the box; he was surprised at the gesture. He had been certain that Ziva, the ninja chick… the Mossad assassin, was incapable of caring for another person. Unless what she'd said in the elevator a few weeks back had meant something other than what he perceived.

A look of surprise crossed his face as he saw what was inside- a silver Movado watch with a black face.

"Ziva, I-…" he stammered. "I-… Thank you."

"You are welcome." Tony took a seat at the kitchen table and motioned for her to do the same.

"Ziva… about the talk we had in the elevator a few weeks back…"

"What about it? You are not happy with the secrets and lies that were kept from us in the previous administration, as am I." Tony shook his head as Ziva sat down by him.

"No… I'm not talking about that part. You said it was a reflex… you said what happened was a reflex." Ziva visibly stiffened some and silently wished that he hadn't brought that up. Taking a breath, she looked down at her hands.

"The gunshot went off… I saw you go down… and I was scared Tony. I was scared that you had been hurt." She paused. "I have seen too many people get hurt in my life, Tony. I have seen just as many people killed. I did not want you get hurt as well." Tony set a hand on her arm and slowly coaxed her gaze up. Ziva took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. "You said you were tired of pretending. All I will say is that I am tired of pretending as well."

Tony set the box on the table and reached across the table, taking her hands in his.

"Ziva, I'm tired of pretending as well." He looked her in the eyes. "It's been going on for too long." Just as the clock struck twelve, Tony leaned across the table and laid a gentle kiss upon Ziva's lips. "Happy Hanukkah, Ziva."

Ziva let a small smile tug at the corners of her mouth, feeling like she'd received the best Hanukkah gift ever.

"Merry Christmas, Tony."

* * *

Another lonely night in the basement had begun for Leroy Jethro Gibbs. He slowly picked up his tools and started sanding the sides of his boat, trying to sand away the previous three day's stresses. If he scraped enough wood, then everything would go right.

Fifteen minutes later, he set his tools down, disgusted with himself. Was he really going to waste his Christmas alone?

He went upstairs and changed his clothes. Pulling on a jacket, he walked out of his house and got in his car. He started it up and looked at the clock. It was 10:00 PM. Gibbs nodded, satisfied, and tore on to the road.

Two hours later, he was pulling into the center of a small town in Pennsylvania. Though he had a feeling in his gut that two of his agents were breaking Rule Number 12, he ignored it. Picking up his cell phone, Gibbs dialed a number.

"Dad? It's Jethro. Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I'm in Stillwater." A laugh escaped him. "Yeah, Dad. I'll be home for Christmas."


End file.
